


Dark Blue

by jukeboxes



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Anxiety, Drunkenness, Heavy Petting, Kissing, M/M, Non-Chronological, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukeboxes/pseuds/jukeboxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever been alone in a crowded room?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Blue

The evening was a bright and buzzy one, with ardent murmurs trickling over the bar. Couples sat close together, whispering into one another's audials. Drinks and sweets were shared. Friends leaned on one another, swapping jokes.

“Swerve?” Skids, dopey grin firmly in place, waved his servo. He was drooping over the other end of the bar, walled off by a litter of empty engex cubes.

Swerve glanced over and jumped off the ledge. That is, the ledge installed into the back of the bar that allowed him to actually see over it. He toddled over and climbed back up.

“Skids?” He smiled and wiped the bar top off. Skids’s arms were folded with his forehelm resting on them. He gazed up at Swerve and flopped his helm to the side. He moaned.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this overcharged, even after last time!” Swerve joked. He set down a cube of regular energon to tide Skids over. The other mech shook his head.

“Nah, I got – got a fast thing. I don’t get as… don’t get as… what?” Skids’s speech sloshed around more than the cube in his hand. “I gotta fast – chip! Fast. Indeed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… indeed.” Skids took a wild gulp of energon, spilling some down his pectoral armor. “Guzzling tailpipes,” he swore. Then he stared suspiciously at his cube. “Not a Mood Whiplash, Swerve. Not Whiplash.”

“Nope. I am cutting you off. That is the finest regular, mid-grade energon I have on servo.”

“Finer than you?” Skids chugged down the last of his drink. He missed Swerve’s expression. “’Cause I gotta say… say. _I have to say that you are finest!_ ” He bellowed right before he offlined, helm thunking against the bar.

“You know,” Swerve smiled wryly, “as Blurr would always say, the worst thing about owning a bar is the drunks.”

* * *

The next night, he closed up shop early. The smooth patter of friendly chat had really torqued him off.

"Swerve, wait up!" A voice called out from behind him. He stopped and turned to look at Skids.

"I closed the bar early tonight if – "

Skids kneeled in front of Swerve. Pressing him against the wall gently, Skids sighed.

“I remember what you said last night. Do you really think you’re the only lonely bot on this ship?” He whispered, leaning closer. Swerve, surprised, listed back. “Every single one of us is missing someone or something. You aren’t alone in that respect, at least.”

“Oh yeah?” Swerve hissed, suddenly angry, “What are you missing then, huh?”

“I don’t remember anything before landing on that planet with the Legislator. My life, in total, is just a few months of spacefaring.”

“Getaway,” Swerve insisted.

“What about him?” The hall lights were dimmed, casting long shadows. The red lights lining the _Lost Light_ 's floors mixed with the dark blue of his optics, bathing their faces in a violet glow. Swerve had no sense of color, and therefore thought the blend of blue plating and purple light was ravishing.

“He’s your… _partner_.” He flapped his servos and tried to convey a meaning.

Skids stared at Swerve for a klik, processing what was just said. And then he laughed.

Swerve’s optics snapped over to watch Skids chuckle, brightening slightly in surprise. “You don’t gotta be cruel about it.”

“You misunderstood, buddy.”

A loud cackle interrupted them. Jackpot careened around the corner, precariously balanced on a friend. With a hiccup, he called out.

“Oi! If you’re going to suck Swerve’s spike - _hic_ \- gotta tell ya, you’re doing it _all_ wrong.”

“He means we’re sorry for interrupting!” His friend apologized with a sly grin. He pulled Jackpot down the hallway while waving goodbye.

Skids stood, shaking his legs to loosen locked cables. “Do you want to move our conversation somewhere more private?”

_The bar is closed_ , Swerve wondered, _where did Jackpot get enough engex to get overcharged?_

He dimly heard Skids suggest his habsuite this time, to make it even.

“Uh, let’s stop by the bar.” Swerve asked. _Better safe than sorry_ , he thought.

* * *

“I can’t, I can’t - !” Swerve pushed him away and backed up against the wall. He shook and vented in short gasps. The room seemed smaller, only the door was farther away than ever. All Swerve wanted was for everything to be quiet.

“Swerve?” Skids panicked. “What’s going on? Did I hurt you?”

“Stop talking!” He slammed a servo over Skids’s mouth. “Give me a minute,” Swerve whispered, curling in on himself. He shut off his optics and dialed down his audials.

Skids carefully climbed off the berth, closing his panel. He looked around, lost. He thought about grabbing a cube, but felt that leaving would be the worst thing at the moment. The only light on in their habsuite was a desk light, but it was dim. It cast his shadow on the wall behind the berth. Skids immediately felt acutely uncomfortable with how menacing it looked.

After a breem, Skids sat back down. “Swerve, are you okay?” His shaking seemed to have stopped, but he still hadn’t raised his helm. "Buddy, I need to know if you're okay. Do I need to comm Ratchet?" He tentatively placed his servo on Swerve's helm. Still, he got no response. "Swerve, answer me."

Finally, Swerve looked up, visor dim. "Can I have a cube?" His intake felt swollen and raw. Skids nodded.

"I'll be back in – "

"There's one in the bottom drawer."

Skids retrieved it and offered the energon to Swerve. "How often does this," Skids gestured helplessly, "happen?"

"Uh, sometimes. But never..." With the panic gone, Swerve felt putrid humiliation. "I'm sorry." He choked out.

"Do I need to call Ratchet?" He insisted once more. Skids scooted over, sitting next to him.

"I can handle this. You can leave." Swerve waved his servo at the door, but Skids didn't move.

"I'll stay."

* * *

The last couple of the busy evening left, leaving Swerve with a blotto Skids. He sighed. "Are you gonna online, or do I gotta carry you back?" No answer. Swerve sighed again and shook his helm.

Crawling around the bar top, he came to a stop near the other bot's stool. Merciless, he kicked it out from under him.

Skids hit the ground with a bang and a shout. " _Damn_!"

"Get up, we're going to your habsuite."

Skids laughed. "'Kay - only if you give me some more Nightmare Fuel."

"In your wildest dreams. Nightmares, rather."

Swerve was able to get him up, not stably, but vertical. The two mecha made their slow journey to the entrance, where he only paused to lock the bar. He breathed in the fresh air not desecrated by the smell of engex and overcharged mecha. After a klik, they continued down the dark hallways on their way to the habitation halls.

Skids stumbled along, laughing and talking to himself. Swerve was content to hem and haw away most of the things directed at him. Until Skids slapped his shoulder.

"Rumor that your roommate?" That gave Swerve pause.

"Huh?"

"You got a roommate opening or closing? Red Alert... you your only habsuite? No one else?"

"Nope." So this was an overcharged Skids trying to be sociable. Concerned. In Swerve's opinion, he just missed the mark. _Still_ , he supposed, _it was the thought that counted._

"You are probably the drunkest I've ever seen you!" Swerve brushed off the topic with an awkward chuckle. Skids, in the fashion of wrecked mecha, carried on, flitting from topic to incomprehensible topic. Then he mentioned the roommate situation again.

"I'm sure Getaway would maybe trade." Swerve flinched, wondering if his interest was just too tangible. Of course, he knew how to distract overcharged mecha... so he just started talking and didn't stop as the two arrived at Skids's quarters. The other bot laughed along. Before Skids could get a word in, Getaway opened the door.

"There you are, mate." He turned to Swerve and winked. "Cheers."

* * *

"How is this going to work?" Swerve stared wide-opticed at the center of Skids's chest.

“Let’s just start with kissing, kay? Work our way from there,” Skids leaned in, brushing Swerve’s lips. Without hesitation, Swerve dove forward, grabbed Skids’s helm, and smooched the living daylights out of him.

Skids laughed so long and loud into the kiss, he had to break away to vent. While his frame was cooling, he stroked Swerve's panel. They both moaned.

Swerve was truly, honestly happy. He'd been teased before for his enthusiastic kissing techniques. But here was Skids, his very best friend, giggling along with him. Kissing his nose. He leaned up and kissed along Skids's jaw, grinning as he felt Skids smile too. He felt fingers trace his shoulders, down his arms, and to his servos still attached to Skids. He laid down, dragging Skids on top.

He was excited and could tell that Skids was, too. There was something electric in the air - a sexual tension that wasn't oppressive in the way it sometimes was. He'd had his doubts before, in the hall. Now, this was what Swerve wanted.

Skids snapped open his panel with a moan and a _snickt_. Swerve gasped.

* * *

The room was full of rowdy mecha. They were all overcharged in a way only free engex could produce. Tables were flipped over, and glasses littered the floor around the depression where bots were drunkenly sparring.

Swerve slapped his servos to his helm and howled. “Get out of my bar, you freeloaders!” He punctuated every word with a swift kicks to the nearest downed bot.

It took a breem to break up the fight. After that, the overcharged mecha steadily trickled out of the bar until the two of them were the only bots left.

Swerve offered Skids a seat. _Here’s as good a place as any._

“Sure,” he agreed, helping Swerve upright a table and chairs. Before he sat, Skids picked up two full cubes off of the floor. “No use in letting these go to waste."

Before he downed the cube, Swerve smashed his helm on the table. “ _Why_? This is going to take all night to clean up!"

Skids took a delicate sip. He scowled at the rancid taste and quietly put it to the side. “Looks like they tried out your… machines.”

“Huh?” Swerve turned around to look at the tanks behind the bar. “Frag... _Frag_. Fragfragfrag.” He banged his helm on the table again. "Correction: this'll take me all _decaorn_ to clean up."

"I didn't take you for such a drama prime." Skids laughed. "Here's the plan," he leaned in, "since this establishment is on The Magnus Books, you put in a complaint. Someone broke in and stole your livelihood."

"It's just engex – "

"Hey, do you _want_ to clean this up?"

"Nuh-uh!" They grinned. "You're saying that Magnus will get them to do it?"

"I believe I am."

"What would I do without you, Skids!" Swerve rolled his helm to the side, visor shining. Skids got quiet as a thought occurred.

“I never thanked you for taking me back to my quarters the other night.”

“Oh,” Swerve fidgeted, “it was, you know, nothing. Helpin’ out a friend.”

“It wasn’t nothing, and I want you to know that I deeply appreciated it.” Skids stared at him. “I don’t think most bots know how compassionate you are.”

Swerve was so surprised he laughed. Skids shook his helm.

“I owe you one.” He solemnly promised. Skids raised his discarded cube to the mech sitting next to him. Swerve chuckled and lifted his cube, too. Skids smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his optic.

“That roommate opening still up for grabs?”

Swerve smiled, wide and open.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by Jack's Mannequin's Dark Blue
> 
> I had the first section written months ago. Then I lost interest, put this story in the "deceased" pile and hadn't looked at it again until yesterday. Suddenly, inspiration. I spent two entire days writing this and now I'm tired and want to sleep. I hope you're happy, Lin.


End file.
